


STAR WARS: Unfinished Business

by Riptor25



Category: Star Wars Legends: Kenobi - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Tatooine (Star Wars), Tusken Raiders (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riptor25/pseuds/Riptor25
Summary: Following the events of the novel Star Wars: Kenobi, we follow Veeka Gault, daughter of Orin Gault, coping with the aftermath of her father's death, and her family's defamation, and watch as her disgrace becomes her determination.
Kudos: 1





	STAR WARS: Unfinished Business

Veeka Gault woke up groggily, dragging her head up with a rush of dizziness as she surveyed her surroundings. Her vision cleared, and when the room stopped spinning, she recognized where she was; passed out on the bar of the local community store and cantina. Dannar's Claim. Just thinking the name made her spit on the floor derisively, though half of the spittle dribbled down her chin. 

She woke up like this almost every day now, or so it seemed. Ever since the accident during a hunt for Tusken Raiders left her orphaned, Veeka had taken her recreational drinking to new levels, drowning her mind to smother the hate-filled dreams. It was the only way she could sleep anymore. Her older brother, Mullen Gault, had left, selling the family moisture farm, and moved into the city of Mos Eisley, leaving Veeka enough credits to keep herself drunk at Dannar's until she died of liver failure. But Veeka didn't move. She had unfinished business here in the Pika Oasis.

Peeling herself off of the stool she had passed out on the night before, Veeka brushed the stringy black hair out of her eyes and stumbled out the door into the harsh Tatooine sunlight of late morning. She made her way to the trashed and barely functional landspeeder she had been living in, and tumbled over the side, landing in the driver's seat with a jolt, sending empty bottles clinking along the floor of the speeder. Her stomach rebelled against the sudden acrobatics, and she righted herself in the seat just in time to lean over the side and heave, swearing in between retches. She spat on the ground, and found a bottle that still had enough alcohol in the bottom to clear out the taste of bile, spat it on the ground, and tried to sober up.

Veeka reached into the back seat to feel around for the one thing that kept her going now. Under the trash and the bottles she felt the handle to a large case, and hefted it into the front seat with her, fumbling with the latches until it opened with a hiss; the airtight seals keeping out unwanted desert sand from the prized possessions within. A nasty scowl darkened her narrow face, and she looked down at the weapons inside. Her brothers credits hadn't just gone towards booze, and buying these was one of the few sober decisions she'd made. The black market dealers in Mos Eisley expensive, but the Hurts all but guaranteed high quality products for the credits spent, and since Veeka didn't have much else to live for, the credits meant little to her. 

Inside the case was an immaculate A295 longblaster in matte black, with the words "Unfinished Business" stenciled along the stock in yellow lettering. She pulled it out and set it on the passengers seat next to her, then went to close the case. As she did, her thumb brushed against the other weapon in the case, and she paused, looking down. It was a small Nubian sporting pistol; the kind diplomats and senators might carry for protection. Out here they had little use for such small and low-powered weapons, but Veeka had a use for it. She stared into the silver finish of the blaster pistol, looking at her disheveled reflection gazing back at her. She touched it once more, checking the charge of the power pack before closing the case and returning it to the rear seat of the speeder. There was enough of a charge for one shot, maybe two. She had a use for it. But not yet. Not until she was through with the one thing she had left to give her life purpose. She threw the speeder's accelerator forward and started for the Jundland Wastes. It was time to hunt some Tuskens.

***

This had been her routine for months now, and Veeka had grown used to the monotony of it. Driving out into the wilderness, she would spend several days at a time camped out here in her landspeeder, tracking the Tusken nomads. Strangely enough, she'd learned quite a bit about them since doing this, more than she'd ever learned while living off of her father, Orrin Gault's Settler's Call. The thought brought more sobriety to her mind. The Call had been her father's purpose in life, though he'd been fool enough to mimic Tusken attacks as a way to bolster donations among the moisture farmers. She'd participated, thinking of it as a fun prank and a way to pay for the next drunken bender. After months of tracking these Tuskens, though, she now saw how transparent their ruse had been. All it had taken was a few people to see through it, and then it all came crashing down, taking her father's life along with it. Her expression soured as she remembered the first man to get suspicious, and also the one she was sure had a part to play in her father's death; Ben Kenobi. The dirty old hermit had asked too many questions, was too observant, and eventually led others to do the same. He'd also led her father's hunting party out into the wilderness, only to return with tales of a Tusken attack. Veeka couldn't prove Kenobi was in league with the Tuskens, and couldn't get anyone to even listen to her now. He'd made sure everyone knew she was involved, and now she was a stench to the whole blasted Pika Oasis. Kenobi had been quick to point out that other species weren't inherently to blame for anything like this, but Veeka knew the truth. She may not be able to touch old Ben, but she could rid this area of the blasted Tuskens, and she was getting better at it.

She knew where the larger roving camp of Tuskens kept to in the Wastes. That much had been easy to track now that she knew how they tried to hide their movements across the sands. The trick was to wait for their smaller hunting bands to separate from the larger group. Veeka parked her speeder in a copse of craggy boulders and unloaded the blaster rifle from it's case, her eyes resting on the pistol next to it before grabbing it as well and closing the case. She eased over the side of the speeder and felt her head spin. Planting her feet on the ground, she steadied herself and pushed away at the haze left over from last night's drinking. Squinting, she crouched down to look at the Rocky sand along the natural pathway carved between the rocks. It sunk low enough for the shadows to block out the twin suns at least until noon, and her sensitive eyes appreciated it. The jagged ravine also blocked the eastern desert winds, preserving tracks long after those in the unprotected sands were blown away.

Sure enough, bantha tracks dragged their way lazily through the gorge, heading north. Veeka spit, and got up from her crouch. The tracks were fresh, and were headed towards the very edge of what used to be the Gault homestead, right where the most remote moisture vaporators skirted the Jundland Wastes. Judging by the fresh silhouettes in the tracks, she guessed they were barely past this outcropping. It was perfect. She pulled a pair of macrobinoculars out and stuffed them into a satchel, then double checked the long vibro knife in it's sheath on her calf. Leaving her speeder so as to not alert the tuskens to her presence, Veeka jogged to the other open end of the gorge, rifle in hand for quick readying. As she came up back onto the sands, she saw figures in the distance; out of range of her rifle, but close enough to distinctly make out four humanoid shapes and two larger banthas. The glint of metal poking up from the horizon could only be one of the vaporators. 

"Last raid you womp rats will ever make" she grumbled through gritted teeth, and ran forward. Heading about two hundred steps to the left towards a larger dune, she made sure she had a good vantage point before dropping prone on the top of the dune and getting out her macrobinoculars. Just as she'd suspected, the tuskens had made a beeline to the vaporator, and were surrounding it. But to her surprise, they weren't attacking it. 

"What are you up to?" She asked no one in particular, watching as three stood around their banthas while the fourth appeared to be working on the vaporator. She pulled out a small canteen and took a draft of it, letting the burn of the alcohol focus her mind and steady her hands. Swapping the macrobinoculars for the rifle, she peered through the scope, noting the positions of the three unoccupied Tuskens and their armament. The fourth was still working on the vaporator and didn't have a rifle or gaffi stick. Steadying her breathing, she sighted in on one of the tuskens as it idled by it's bantha steed, and fired!

The shot missed, her blaster bolt sizzling into the flank of the bantha, causing it to howl before limping away. In chorus the other banthas cried out, spooked by the shot, and began to scatter. Veeka swore, and fumbled to sight in on another tusken as they all scrambled for cover among the scattering of rocks. Giving up, she decided to move down along the crest of the dune to get a better shot. She had the high ground, which gave her the advantage, but it also limited her movement. The Tuskens would always have a guess as to where she would be. She swore again, stumbling as she dove for her new vantage point, and instantly regretting her poor decision to drink the night before.

Sand exploded around her as several Tuskens fired off shots, to pin her down or in hopes of a lucky shot, she didn't know. Veeka edges up along the dune and peeked her rifle scope and barrel over the edge, trying to minimize her profile as she finally spotted one of the Tuskens moving between rocks. "Gotcha" she said between gritted teeth, sand calling her lips. She squeezed the trigger and this time, the Tusken Raider dropped, a smoking crater where it's face mask had been moments before. The Tusken by the vaporator hadn't moved,and appeared to be shouting something to the others, but Veeka watched in astonishment as one of the other Tuskens fired a warning shot at the feet of its exposed ally. She didn't let her amazement stall her action, however, and while the one was busy firing at it's comrade, Veeka sent a pair of blaster bolts into its back, dropping it into the sand on its face.

"One more to go," she breathed, peeking up from her scope to try and spot the last armed Tusken. But it was nowhere to be seen. She squinted into her rifle scope again, looking from rock to rock, trying to see where it had taken cover. Too late, she heard the horrific ululating wail of a Tusken battle cry from just behind her, and only just managed to roll away as the clubbed end of a gaffi buried itself into the sand where her head had only just been. Now on her back, Veeka stared up into the featureless breathing mask of the last Tusken Raider, it's staff already raised up for another killing strike. In a roll that sent her still-disoriented senses reeling, she somersaulted towards her attacker, grabbing it by the ankles and wrenching it's feet out from under it. Tusken and gaffi stick both dropped to the sandy dune on top of her, and then they were grappling, each trying to get a grasp on the other to squeeze the life out of their mortal enemy. Together the two combatants rolled down the side of the dune towards the vaporator. When their momentum slowed and they came to a stop, the tusken was on top of her, both hands bearing down towards her throat as she tried to fend them off with one hand. Her other hand fumbled around for her survival knife, trying desperately to find the harness that had shifted in their struggle. The Tuskens hands were closed around her throat now, squeezing and bearing it's full weight on her. The edges of her vision began to dim, and her head was throbbing with each heart beat until it was all she could hear. Finally, as her sight became pinpricks filled with the awful wrapped mask of the Tusken, she found the handle of her knife. She ripped it from it's sheath,and thrust it up into the abdomen of her would be killer. For a moment the grip continued to squeeze her throat, but after a moment the hands relaxed, and she felt the warm wet lifeblood soak into the wrappings as the Tusken slumped on top of her.

With monumentous effort, Veeka rolled the body off of her and caught her breath, trying to stand as oxygen filled her lungs and cleared her head. She had expected the last unarmed Tusken to already be gone, fleeing along with the banthas, but she saw it still cowering by the moisture vaporator, hands raised in surrender as it crouched. She wondered at the sight; she had never seen a Tusken surrender before. However, mercy was not on her mind today. She looked around for her rifle but it was nowhere to be seen. Then she remembered the sporting pistol. Pulling the delicate blaster from it's holster, she leveled it at the Tusken, and fired. While low powered, the blaster bolt was still deadly at close range, and it burned a neat hole into the chest of the final Tusken, and it slumped to the sand. That was when Veeka noticed the shackles. On each ankle was a heavy metal shackle that linked it to the moisture vaporator. Still holding the sporting pistol, checking and seeing one shot still left in the charge, she edged closer to inspect the oddity. A few places away, she noticed several water jugs lying in the sand, along with the access panel to the moisture vaporator. They had been trying to steal water, and apparently this Tusken had known how to do it. She looked down at the Tusken, and a sickening thought began to form in her mind.

Veeka stumbled, the facts beginning to arrange themselves into a theory in her mind. A Tusken chained to a vaporator. The vaporator once belonging to her own Gault homestead. The Tusken knew the access codes for the panel. No, no, no. She rushed to the fallen Tusken and fell to her knees in the sand beside it. Fumbling to undo the head wrappings while still clutching her blaster pistol, she ripped away the breathing apparatus and bandages covering the Tusken's face. No...the Human's face. She pulled away the last of the wrappings, but already knew who it was underneath. Her arms went limp as she stared into the cold expressionless face of Orin Gault; her father.

"Nooooo!" Veeka screamed, cradling her father in her arms. She knelt there and screamed and sobbed until she lost track of time. Her chest felt like ice and she couldn't bear to let Orin's body go because that meant having to look at his face again. So she stayed there, crying and holding him, not caring if more Tuskens heard her and killed her. She wanted to die. When her son's finally succumbed to exhaustion, she looked up to see the twin suns setting, and the sky fading from hazy orange to a dusky purple. Her vengeance drained from her. She wanted nothing more than to end it all, because she couldn't bear what she had done. She looked down at the silvery sporting pistol still gripped in her hand, and realized it was finally time for it's intended purpose. Veeka had bought it knowing that once she was done killing Sand People, she would have nothing left, and only one action left to take. But now, she just wanted to be done. She leveled the pistol to her temple, and squeezing her eyes shut, pulled the trigger. It clicked, but there was no bolt. Gasping, not having realized she'd been holding her breath, Veeka checked the charge; empty. It had only been good for one shot after all. She didn't care. Gently laying her father's body onto the sand, she put her jacket over his face and went looking for her rifle. She would end things here one way or another.

Movement stopped her in her search, and she looked in the dusk light to see what had caught her eye. The Tusken she had shot in the back, the one that had fired the warning shot at her father, it was alive, gurgling under it's mask, and dragging itself along the sand, slowly clawing it's way towards it's gaffi stick. Instantly Veeka's abject despair was burned away by a deep, seething hatred. She rushed over to the Tusken, and snatched away the gaffi stick from it's reach, bringing the sharp pike end down on it's hand. The creature howled in pain. Good. Raising the staff over her head, she screamed a primal, hate-filled scream as she brought the bludgeoning club end down on its head, crushing it's skull. She hit it again as her hate continued to spill out. Hatred for what they made her do to her father. Again. Hatred for the Sand People. Again. Hatred for every blasted alien that had ruined her life. 

She finally wore herself out, having lost count of how many times she had struck the Tusken's corpse, but when Veeka finished, she realized she did still have a purpose. She wasn't finished. She tossed down the gaffi stick and walked back to her father, picking him up and carrying him back to the dune; back to her landspeeder. She wouldn't be finished until she had made the Tuskens pay for what they'd done to her. She scooped up her rifle at the top of the dune, and continued marching back to the crag in the rocks, gently laying her father's body in the back seat before stowing the rifle and pistol in their case. She bypassed the bar, bypassed the Pika Oasis, and headed for the city of Mos Eisley. Her first stop would be the coroner. Then, she would stop at the Imperial recruitment station. Veeka Gault wouldn't be satisfied until she'd made the aliens all pay for what her life had become. She had unfinished business with all of them.

***

The briefing room for the Mos Eisley Stormtrooper Garrison wasn't anything fancy, but for the natives of Tatooine who had signed on with the Empire, it was a sight to behold. Veeka Gault--now Sergeant Major Gault of the 94th Sandtrooper Corps after years of sobriety, training, and hate-filled determination--was still impressed with the pristine Garrison Headquarters. For being on a backwater ball of sand, they ensured there wasn't a speck of the stuff to be seen once you entered the offices. Currently she stood at attention, her helmet held under one arm and a gleaming Nubian sporting pistol strapped to her white plastoid thigh armor, waiting for the lieutenant to begin the briefing.

The lieutenant standing beside Veeka was younger than her; inexperienced and skiddish. Both of them stood before her personal squad of sandtroopers, giving a joint briefing on their current assignment. Fidgeting before activating a holodisplay, the lieutenant pointed to the technical readouts that now shimmered in a flickering blue light. 

"Troopers, this is your objective. Two droids dumped by fleeing Rebel insurgents above the planet. One third-degree protocol droid, and one second-degree R2 astromech. Your fellow troops tracked their escape pod landing vector to the Dune Sea, however the droids appear to have been picked up by the local Jawa clan out in the Wastes." 

The hologram changed from a map to a Jawa sandcrawler. From here, Veeka took over the presentation, "Our orders are to seize the droids, plain and simple. The Jawas won't give em up easy, so we take em out. We aren't here for a diplomatic mercy mission. We're here to take what's ours.

The lieutenant fidgeted again, "W-well actually, the local governor contacted me about the mission. He specified with considerable fervor that this is to be done with as little fallout on the local government as possible. Should your wanton destruction be traced back to the Empire, it could provoke revolt among the local moisture farmers."

Sergeant Major Veeka turned to regard him, adjusting the stormtrooper helmet crooked in her arm, "Lord Vader himself ordered those droids found, lieutenant." Her lust for destruction had not waned over the years, and she wouldn't let politics get in the way of her fun. Then, an idea struck her, "Bit of a change of plans. We'll roast the Jawas, but the Empire will get more farmers signing on than ever when we're through."

The lieutenant cocked an eyebrow, obviously liking the chance of gaining favor with the local governor. "Sergeant Major, please continue."

Veeka gave a predatory smile, "Grab all the confiscated Tusken paraphernalia we've got on hand. I'll show you a little trick my pa taught me."


End file.
